


Odi Et Amo

by Just_another_shipper



Series: Young Gods [3]
Category: Death Note
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Established Relationship, M/M, everyone but Misa, everyone is in a constant state of what are we?, i'm back bitches, ish, with that chaptered fic I promised everyone forever ago
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-23
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-08-16 22:20:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8119699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Just_another_shipper/pseuds/Just_another_shipper
Summary: “Hurt you? Of course I’m not going to hurt you. No, little godling, I’m going to kill you.”
   Light and L dance around each other in the godly plane, each refusing to be the first to give, Near struggles with reconciling with Matt and Mello after their desertion of the priesthood, and there is a killer hunting down immortal gods with an unfathomable weapon. The emotional stakes are high, but when all of reality hangs in the balance, how important are petty feuds anyway?





	1. i

**Author's Note:**

> Hey Everyone! I have finally finished the first chapter of this fic. I'm not 100% sure where this is going yet, but I'm pretty excited to see what I come up with. 
> 
> The title is from Catullus 85. My trash son sometimes writes deep poetry. It's not all dick jokes and kisses. The translation is by me :)
> 
> I have a [tumblr](http://just-another-shipper.tumblr.com/), feel free to drop by and talk to me about my children (be it my dn children or my trashy roman children, either way) or just to say hi. 
> 
> Anyway, I'm proud of myself for this AU, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

i.

 

_Odi et amo. quare id faciam fortasse requiris_

_nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior._

 

_I hate and I love. Why do I do this, you might ask?_

_I do not know, but I feel it happening and I am tormented._

 

_-Gaius Valerius Catullus_

 

_-_

_-_

_-_

  


There is a dead body lying on the ground.

 

As the Greatest Detective approaches the scene, he takes in all of the details he can. The sky is dark and cloudy, there is dew on the grass in the park, a dog barks, a lone bird caws in the tree. There is a dead goddess lying in the grass.

 

L crouches awkwardly next to her corpse. He begins to take notes in his head. In death as in life, the goddess is wearing her leather jacket and she is laying down as if in sleep, her face serene. There is no blood, no terror on her face, no wounds. She didn’t see her death coming.

 

L takes a deep breath, feeling a small, hairline crack in his normally expressionless, emotionless mask. The dead goddess is Naomi Misora.

 

L sighs. Closes his eyes. Compartmentalizes. He can grieve later. For now, he has to find the culprit. He routes all of his considerable brain power to solving her death. It’s the least he can do after their history, but it doesn’t feel like enough.

-

_A young, inexperienced L stands in front of his first summoning fire, the nerves bouncing around in his stomach making his slouch more pronounced. He doesn’t know what to expect, he doesn’t know how he can help those strange, alien creatures that had created his world through their hopes and dreams and fears and desires._

 

_He almost jumps out of his skin when he feels a hand come down on his shoulder. The hand belongs to a beautiful goddess in a leather jacket. Her voice is gentle, kind, but never condescending when she asks, “Nervous? I know I was at my first summoning.”_

 

_L regards her silently for moment, unsure of what to say, before settling on, “Yes, I am, but I’m not sure why this information is useful to you.”_

 

_The goddess laughs and introduces herself, “Naomi Misora, Goddess of Devotion. You’ll do fine, come and find me after your summoning, okay? I want to know how it goes.”_

 

_L, without quite knowing why, agrees and steps into his first summoning fire._

_-_

_L comes back, overwhelmed with the feeling of rightness that he now feels deep inside of him. His first case has been solved, his first name stolen as payment. Eating the taffy he received as an offering, he goes to find the Goddess of Devotion like he promised._

_-_

_Naomi Misora is coming back out of her own summoning fire when L finds her again. Her eyes light up when she see him. “So,” she asks, excitement unabashedly filling her face, “how did it go? What’s your Dominion?”_

 

_L tells her about solving his first case and his discovery of his Dominion and everything that happened. Misora nods, completely engrossed in his story. At the end of his tale, she grins brightly and invites him to her shrine. By the end of the day, the Goddess of Devotion has become a close and important friend to L._

 

_Throughout the years, Naomi has helped him with cases as well as his personal life. They haven’t spoken in a few years, but that is to be expected for two gods for whom time doesn’t exist and all gods knew that death is a concept best left to the mortals._

 

Until now.

 

L mentally ran through his knowledge of everything that could kill a god. The options were limited. He quickly crossed off anything that would destroy the body or leave a mark.

 

At the top of his list was Kira, he was the most likely to kill a god, and his ability to kill with heart-attacks was very similar to the ability he could sense near Misora’s body.

 

Despite the circumstances, he felt a small thrill run through him. It had been a while since he had seen the young god, he was due for a visit. Even if it amounted to nothing, visiting Light was always good for his brain (and other parts of his anatomy as well).

-

-

-

As a body hits the floor with a thump, his blood sings with the power of a completed contract. For a moment, he feels serene, nothing but him and death around.

 

“Hey, Light-o, do you think this guy has any apples?”

 

Light sighs, leave it to Ryuk to break the best moment of the day. He turns to the shinigami and replies, “I don’t know, Ryuk, maybe you should look around and find out. And stop calling me that.”

 

Ryuk laughs, but leaves Light’s side in search of his addiction. Light sincerely hopes that Ryuk had at least finished absorbing the soul. After witnessing a lingering soul a dozen summonings ago, Light was even more meticulous about how he killed. It hadn’t been a pleasant sight.

 

“Light, do you want anything from this guy’s fridge? He has _everything_ in here. It’s a wonder he hasn’t died of a natural heart-attack already.” Ryuk calls from the kitchen.

 

Light grits his teeth and forcibly reminds himself why Ryuk is necessary and important to his job and resolutely does _not_ think about choking him with one of those apples he loves so much. “No, Ryuk, I don’t want anything from his fridge, I won’t take anything from the dead. Also, he _did_ have a natural heart-attack. What do you think that was?”

 

Ryuk drifts back into view eating an apple. “You speeding up the process a little, Light-o.”

 

Light closes his eyes to try and stave off the oncoming headache he could feel building behind his eyes. Deciding to leave before he does something he would regret, Light opens his eyes and smiles at the shinigami.

 

“Yes, well, as much fun as this has been, I have to go meet Misa now, Ryuk.”

 

“Tell the missus hi for me, have fun with crazy.”

 

Ignoring that last comment, Light leaves the mortal plane in the puff of smoke he’s so fond of, Ryuk’s sharp teeth and gritty laugh fading from reality as he does.

-

Sadly, Light actually _does_ have to meet Misa for a date.

 

He’s mostly tuned out her inane, grating chatter, but he’s schooled his face into an attentive expression to keep her happy. They are at a nice restaurant back in the mortal plane (because he doesn’t spend enough time there already) and Light has to force himself to keep his eyes on Misa and not any of the mortals surrounding him.

 

It’s not that he’s worried any of the mortals will recognize him for anything other than another mortal, but Light feels out of place, like a picasso in a kindergarten art display.

 

“Light? Did you hear me?”

 

Misa’s shrill voice snaps him back into focus.

 

“Sorry Misa, I just got a little distracted for a moment, what were you saying?” Light asks, _keep her happy, she’s important, you have to have some sort of consort. Remember how useful she is._ It’s sad how often he has to remind himself her uses, if he could, he would have found a way to get rid of her a long time ago if only because of how annoying she is, but thanks to her love-struck shinigami, he was stuck with her.

 

Ego soothed, Misa goes right back to rambling on about something. Light’s still not paying attention, but he acts attentive and nods at all the right places. He reminds himself that he only has to put up with her for a few more hours.

 

Finally the dinner is over and they go back to the godly plane. Free of Misa at last, he lets his mask drop as he enters his shrine, slumping onto a seat in an undignified manner that he never would have with company around.

 

“Hello, Kira”

 

Light startles at the voice. L is crouching in the chair across from him, _and Light didn’t notice_. He wonders what that says about his relationship with the detective that his usually superhuman defenses don’t even register his nemesis as a threat. Light hastily sits up straighter and feels his mask reappear on his face.

 

“Detective,” he says, “you do know that it is rude to break into another person’s home, don’t you?”

 

L doesn’t respond, which is not surprising in the least, considering L’s a bastard. A horrible, disgusting, immature _bastard._  Light sighs and says, “Are you here for business or pleasure, Ryuzaki?”

 

Light is caught between being too exhausted to fuck and too needy to turn it down. He really hopes the detective isn’t here for business, he doesn’t think he could handle that tonight.

 

The detective brushes his thumb against his lips and stares seemingly blankly at Light, but Light can sense that L’s brain is working the way it only does when he is on a case. So he’s not here for pleasure then. Light lets out a breath that would be a sigh if he could let himself be more dramatic around others.

 

L straightens (as much as he ever does) and lopes unhurriedly over to stare blankly at Light. Light is constantly shocked at how it seems that _no one_ taught the Greatest Detective the meaning of _personal space._

 

“Come on, Kira, I have something to show you.” L encircles Light’s wrist like a shackle and tugs him out of his shrine. Light doesn’t even have a chance to refuse before they are in a park with a dead goddess laying on the ground.

 

Startled, Light laughs, “Did you finally snap and kill someone, L?”

 

L isn’t even looking at the dead body, instead encroaching on Light’s personal space ( _again)_ and observing him like a scientist observes a lab rat, like a god observes mortals. Light subtly moves away and hides his righteous anger at being looked at like that behind a neutral mask.

 

“Actually, Kira, this is more like how you kill. You are my prime suspect right now, after all.”

 

Light barks out a laugh again, the _nerve_. “First of all, L, I know we’ve been over this, but you don’t seem to understand this, but I’m not Kira. Secondly, I thought that Kira could only kill mortals, it doesn’t match his power.”

 

Disgustingly, L’s thumb is in his mouth again when he says, “That is what everyone thinks, but no one knows the extent of Kira’s powers.”

 

Light can hear the end of that sentence just as clear as if the other god had said it aloud. _No one knows the extent of Kira’s powers because no one knows who Kira_ is.

 

Light represses the urge to punch the god, L didn’t even address his denial. Sometimes, Light wonders why he even keeps up his facade in front of the detective, but then he remembers how exciting this game of theirs is. Light playing the spotless martyr and L stumbling around trying to find some _proof_ to back up what they both know. It’s simultaneously the best and worst thing about Light’s existence.

 

Instead of continuing the conversation, which Light knows from experience will only devolve into another  circular debate with no resolution, he turns and looks at the dead goddess at his feet.

 

The goddess is beautiful in the way that highly competent people tend to be (Light counts himself among this group) and even in death, Light can sense that she was a powerful goddess: a member of the pantheon, not a minor god. He turns to L and asks, “Who was she?”

 

“Naomi Misora, Goddess of Devotion. She was killed last night by what seems to be a heart-attack.” L keeps his tone emotionless, but Light can read him too well to be fooled, not when the detective’s eyes keep darting to the body as if he can’t bring himself to look away.

 

“That’s very interesting and all, but who was she to _you_?”

 

L’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly. Light hides his smile, pleased. He knew there was more going on inside the detective’s head. L quickly regains his composure and replies, “She helped me on a few cases. Despite not having a Dominion close to mine, she was very good at detective work.”

 

Light nods, ignoring the small twinge of jealousy in his heart. After all, Light and L are nothing to each other, their arrangement just a way to let off steam. (Most days Light can almost convince himself that this is the truth)

 

“Was there a psychic aura lingering when she was found?” Light asks, thoughts turning back to the dead goddess instead of his emotions, in his experience, death is much simpler, murder simpler still.

 

L shakes his head and drops his hand back at his side, “There was no trace of anything in the surrounding area, it was very strange.”

 

Light nods, taking in the information and turning it over in his mind.  “Was she missing anything when she was found?”

 

L shakes his head, “As far as anyone can tell, she just dropped dead.”

 

After that, they both go silent, trying to piece together the murder.

-

“Hello, detective, I heard what happened. I’m here to help.”

 

The sound of a new voice breaks Light’s concentration. He turns around to ask the new god to be mindful of the crime scene (politely, always politely), and comes face-to-face with his father.

 

“Dad? What are you doing here?”

 

“Soichirou Yagami’s Duty to the gods allows him to help with godly crimes, this falls into his Dominion, so I asked him to come and help us. After all, you never know when you need a fresh set of eyes to look at a problem.” L answers, spewing bullshit like usual, then he addresses Light’s father, “Thank you for coming, Yagami-san.”

 

Soichirou nods his head in acknowledgement before asking, “Detective, what is my son doing here? This isn’t part of his Dominion.”

 

Light shoots L a lightning fast glare. _Don’t you dare, you bastard._

 

L catches his eye in a knowing glance before turning back to Light’s father and answering, “Kira is my main suspect, and even if he’s not, Light is smart enough to keep up with me and his dealings with criminals gives him insight into this case that only I could match.”

 

Soichirou looks confused, “But L, my son’s Dominion is academia, he doesn’t have any dealings with criminals.”

 

Light prematurely relaxes, but then L, _that bastard_ , responds with, “Light Yagami is Kira, Soichirou Yagami, he’s my main suspect.”

 

Light forces himself to laugh and turns to his father to try and salvage this. “Ryuzaki is only joking, it’s an inside joke between us.”

 

L remains silent and Light subtly lets out a breath as his father eats the lie up. As soon as his father’s back is turned to examine the crime scene, he shoots L another glare.

 

His father looks back up at them and asks, “So, what is the situation? How did she die?”

 

Light speaks before L has the chance to screw things up for him more than he already has just by existing. “The deceased is named Naomi Misora, she was the Goddess of Devotion. It appears as though she suffered a heart attack and died, which is why L thinks that Kira is the culprit, but as far as anyone knows, Kira’s powers only work on humans.”

 

“Also,” L cuts in, “there was no psychic aura around her, not even hers.”

 

Light continues the briefing, quickly filling in blanks as he goes, “There are no gods who don’t leave an aura-”

 

“- which is why it could also be a human with a spell or a Lost Article and-”

 

“-gods tend to avoid killing other gods except in extreme cases however-”

 

“-humans with access to spells or Lost Articles don’t know any better and are more likely to kill a god accidentally.”

 

L finishes Light’s thought and Light has to hide a smile at the ease in which they work together when Kira isn’t mentioned.

 

Light takes a moment to consider what their next steps should be before getting distracted by L brushing his thumb against his bottom lip. “L, are you going to ask your priests to begin investigating the mortals?”

 

L (sadly) drops his thumb and nods before turning to Light’s father and saying, “Soichirou, will you begin investigating any gods that could possibly do this with your underlings? Light and I will help, of course.”

 

Light nods in agreement, already planning on getting his own priests involved.

 

Before they all go their separate ways, L stops and says, “And one more thing, we can’t tell any other gods, this _must_ remain under wraps until we prove that it isn’t a god.”

 

The dramatic bastard then vanishes to contact his priests, leaving Kira with no way to contact _his_ priests without giving himself away.

 

Well, fuck.

-

-

-

Near was building a model of the Temple with legos when the smell of stale cigarette smoke drifted into the room. The smell of chocolate followed shortly thereafter. Near stood up. It appeared that Matt and Mello had arrived home.

 

Sure enough, when Near entered the kitchen, there was Matt in his fur vest with an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips, he didn’t even look up from his handheld game when Near walked into the room. However, Mello’s head darted up before Near had even set foot in the room, a chocolate bar in his hand and a mocking smile on his lips. Near knew he was going to say something caustic and bitter before the other boy even opened his mouth.

 

“Hey, Near, are you still playing with toys even now that you’re one of _his_ priests?”

 

Near sighs, “That depends, Mello, are you still bitter about not being able to serve _him_?”

 

Mello’s eyes narrow and Near suspects that he is about to get punched, but before anything can happen, Near’s phone rings, not defusing the tension, but pausing everything for a brief moment.

 

Holding it up to his ear, he hears one of the initiates talking in a scared, tinny voice.

 

“E-Excuse me, is this Near? The High Priest wants you here.”

 

“I understand, I’ll be there shortly.”

 

“Thank you, sir, I’ll let him know.”

 

And with that, Near closes the phone and turns to the two rivals/lovers/brothers in the room with him. Before he can get a word out, Mello laughs, sharp and angry, and says from where he’s leaning against the counter, “Did _he_ call? Or was it just Ruvie again with another _test_?”

 

Near suppresses the urge to continue with this match of verbal sparring and instead turns to Matt. He opens his mouth to ask, but Matt is already walking to the door, his eyes never wavering from whatever game he is playing. Near follows him out, deliberately ignoring the mocking laughter that follows him out of the room.

-

It wasn’t always this way.

 

Years ago, before the fire and the orphanage and the desertion, they were all friends. No, more than friends. They were brothers and lovers and playmates and anything else they needed to be for each other. But then they became initiates for L and then came the tests and the pressure and the competition that slowly drove Near and Mello apart, leaving Matt somewhere in the middle, forcing him to adopt an apathetic facade in order to act as a go between for the other two. But for the most part, it was all still tolerable, there was still some sort of bond between the three of them. But then came the investigation into Mello’s parents death and Mello’s desertion and Matt following him like usual, especially after Near had pushed them both away. The fact that they even spoke to each other at all was a miracle.

 

It wasn’t always this way, but it had been a long time since it hadn’t been and there was too much bad blood and too many burned bridges for anything to change now.

-

Matt drives them to the Temple to the sound of rap music loud in his ears, forcing him to _feel_ the bass in his chest, refusing to let him think. Near sometimes thinks that this is Matt’s way of bringing the two genii back to the world by taking away their only true weapon. Near thinks this is bullshit and would rather ride around in silence.

 

The finally reach the Temple and Matt lets him out, refusing to go inside despite the fact that, unlike Mello, he is still welcome. It was a point of pride, Near suspected.

 

Near finds the green initiate who had talked to him on the phone in front of Rodger’s office, trembling. Near feels a faint pang of something that could have been pity if he was inclined to feel such things, but upon closer inspection, he realizes that it is just faint annoyance at her being here.

 

“H-he’s ready for you if you want to go in.”

 

Near doesn’t answer, already walking across the threshold of the inner temple where only high priests and the select others could walk. His hand is in his pocket, pulling out his Rubik’s cube, when he suddenly freezes. There is someone sitting in a chair next to Roger Ruvie. There is a laptop open in the middle of a summoning circle.

 

Taking it all in, Near resumes fiddling with the toy. The man in the chair is obviously Quillish Whammy, codename: Watari. The laptop displayed a single letter:L. The Greatest Detective decided to come and visit his priests.

 

Deciding the best greeting for the god was just a casual address, Near nods his head towards the computer and simply says, “Detective, it’s good to meet you.” He doesn’t say, _Why is this the first time I’ve seen you?_ or, _If you had come just a year earlier,_ or even _Why couldn’t help us?_

 

The computerized voice returns the greeting with, “Near, the brightest of my priests, I have a job for you.”

 

Near can feel the hair on the back of his neck stand up. It was rare for his god to need help. But despite all of his inner turmoil, all he says is, “Of course, Kami, whatever you ask.”

 

The computer laughs, a garbled sound that is so distorted it takes Near a moment to parse out what it is supposed to be. “There’s been a murder that I may need your help to solve, Near. It may take all of your skill as well as the skill of your two… _roommates_ to win.”

 

Near trys to keep his face impassive at the mention of the other two boys that should be here now, though he suspects that he fails. L continues, “Watari has all the relevant information that I have for you on this case. Should you need anything, don’t hesitate to let him know.”

 

Near nods and the Greatest Detective leaves their presence with no more fanfare than the computer screen going black. Watari hands Near a file and leaves just as silently as his master. Near immediately opens the file and scans the documents. He feels his stomach drop as he realizes that his god definitely understated things. He wasn’t just looking for a murderer, he was looking for a _god-killer._

 

This doesn’t bode well for him at all.

-

He follows Ruvie out of the room and is reaching for his phone to call Matt when Roger stops him. “I don’t have to tell you to keep this from your _roommates_ do I?” He asks and Near feels a faint stirring of something that might be anger growing in his belly.

 

“Of course you don’t Roger.”

 

“Good,” Ruvie says, “because I don’t need to tell you how volatile and,” he searches for the right word, “ _untrustworthy_ they are.”   


Near resists the urge to roll his eyes and just replies, “I know that, Roger, we just share the same house, we don’t even get along.”

 

Ruvie looks at him the same way he did when Near was young and lied about putting his toys away. “Yet you still get rides from Matt.”

 

Near bristles defensively, “Matt hasn’t been cast out and he’s not as crazy as Mello.”

 

Ruvie chuckles a little and says, “That’s true, I suppose, though it’s not like he ever goes to the Temple, but I suppose you have work to do now. I will leave you to it.”

 

Near doesn’t acknowledge him as he leaves the room to go to his own office in the Temple to get started on the case. He suspects that it will be a long few weeks.

-

-

-

There is a body lying on the ground. A god. He doesn’t think the the god was a very _powerful_ god, but he had seen him helping a human. _Meddling_. The Man Who Can See Gods couldn’t allow that to continue.

 

The god begins _crying_ .Pathetically. The Man Who Can See Gods starts laughing maniacally, deranged and unsettling, prompting the captured god to begin crying _harder_ , to begin to try and bargain for his life. As if the man wanted anything from a meddling god. The man bends down and strokes the side of the god’s face, reveling in the shudder that goes through the god at his touch. “Hush, little godling, you’re being too loud.”

 

The god closes his mouth with a sharp snap.

 

“What’s your name, godling? Are you _powerful_?”

 

The god begins speaking with a flood of words, desperate to escape the man. “My name’s Believe Bridesmaid, I’m a minor god of writing. _Please don’t hurt me. Please, Please, Please, Plea-_ ”

 

The man cuts him off with a sharp laugh. “Hurt you? Of course I’m not going to hurt you. No, little godling, I’m going to _kill_ you.”

 

And with that, the man takes out his Article, a switchblade that doesn’t cut skin, but instead kills whatever the owner wants to be killed in whatever manner they desire, and presses it to Believe Bridesmaid’s throat. The god can’t even scream as all of the air in his lungs leaves him and he slowly chokes to death, the light leaving his eyes much more slowly than it would a mortal man. This is something the man knows from experience. Finally, the god is dead and the man drags him from the God Trap and positions the corpse properly in front of the house, where he knows that _he_ will find it.

 

Once everything is arranged to his satisfaction and there is no more evidence anywhere to implicate him, Beyond Birthday walks away and easily blends into the shadows he came from.


	2. ii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone needs to get their shit together and everyone is a fucking mess and it's beautiful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long to update! I (as I'm sure everyone is at least a little aware) am a super slow writer and I exist in a constant state of procrastination, but I was feeling inspired last week as a way to escape the clusterfuck that was the election. 
> 
> This chapter was really fun and I decided on a style choice that I feel that I must talk about. From this point on, all mortals will be written in the past tense and all immortals will be written in the present tense because time exists for mortals, but immortals exist outside of it. 
> 
> (this style choice isn't in chapter 1, but at some point, I will fix it)
> 
> Once again, shout out to my boy Ovid for the quote at the beginning of the chapter. Ovid always has the best quotes for Lawlight, don't ask me why.
> 
> Follow me on [tumblr](http://just-another-shipper.tumblr.com/) if you want

_“I’ll hate if I can; if not, I’ll love against my will”_

_-Ovid, Amores_

-

-

-

-

The temple dedicated to the God of Vengeance was small and dark, a stark contrast to the priests and the god they worshipped. For ordinary people, death was not something to venerate, and a god that reflected the darkest side of justice was not a god to worship, not a god to venerate, a god that reflected the darkest side of justice was a god to worship in private and berate in public.

 

At least, that’s what Mikami Teru thought every time he walked into his place of worship, masked and stripped of anything that would identify him in the manner that priests of Kira had been dressing in for centuries. The danger that open worshippers of his god had faced forced them underground decades ago. Of course, if society truly wanted Kira gone, the god would no longer exist. Mikami wondered what that said about society, then he decided that it didn’t matter, because he was one of the few, chosen people who understood the nature of Kira.

 

“Mikami, do you know why we were called?”

 

Mikami looked over to Kiyomi Takada. His fellow priestess was beautiful and put together like usual, just like he was. He wasn’t sure why she was chosen to be Kira’s priestess, but it didn’t really matter, because their god was the one who chose his priests. There was no other way into the sacred circle. Their god seemed partial to highly organized people with a strong sense of justice, but besides that, Mikami didn’t know much about Takada, just like she knew little about him. It was safer this way. Neither of them desired to become the social pariahs that they would be if anyone knew about their patron god and Kira doesn’t demand martyrs.

 

“Sorry, Takada, I know as much as you do. Maybe we’re going to be granted a Visit with _him_.”

 

Mikami watched Takada’s eyes, the only discernible feature through the black mask that they both wore, light up in joy.

-

When they reached the inner sanctum of the temple, they immediately began the summoning ritual for their god. They worked in tandem, both of them completely silent with reverence for the task they were completing. This type of summoning was different from the normal death requests. Instead of giving their god a task to complete in the mortal plane, they instead had to request _his_ presence, which didn’t always yield results as gods are fickle and immortal and exist outside of time and the whims of the mortals who serve them. However, this time, Kira appeared almost instantly, as if he was waiting for the summon.

 

“ _My God._ ”

 

Both of their voices were reverent, almost breathless, when they looked at the god they had dedicated their whole lives to. Their god was a shadowy figure with rust colored hair and the bright red eyes of a death god. Occasionally, they were able to see a hint of an arm or leg, but the only thing visible to the priests were Kira’s eyes, hair, and gleaming white teeth.

 

“Kiyomi, Teru, my most faithful priests, I have a very important job for you both.”

 

_“Anything,_ ” Mikami found himself saying, and he meant it. He would do _anything_ for his god, if only he asked.

 

Kira smiled again, clearly pleased with his answer.

 

His god continued speaking, “There has been a disturbance in the godly realm and we believe that there is a mortal man responsible.”

 

“We?” Takada asked, Mikami wanted to berate her, _he_ knew that you shouldn’t question the Bringer of Justice, but Takada has always been more independent than he was, more foolish.

 

They were both in love with _him_ , the difference was that Mikami knew that they were unworthy of their god’s love. Takada believed she had a chance.

 

How foolish.

 

His god looked down, his hair hiding his eyes, and Mikami got the distinct feeling that the god of Vengeance was... _embarrassed_ about something. Mikami found himself wondering what could cause the god of Wrath embarrassment. Whatever it was, Mikami didn’t want to know.

 

“I consulted a minor god about this, that’s all.”

 

Mikami was struck with the thought that his god could be lying, but instantly banished the thought, feeling guilty for even thinking it.

 

“Kami, how can we help you?” Mikami asked, ever reverent.

 

“Two gods have been killed by an unknown mortal with an Article, I want you both to try and find him and give me his name.”

 

The god of vengeance was back to being completely professional again and Mikami felt guilty for doubting his god, even for a moment.

 

“Of course, Kami, we’ll find him, we promise.”

 

The God of Vengeance smiled again. “There is one more thing you should know. The Detective is also investigating and has most certainly sent his dogs out to try and _capture_ ”- Kira’s lip curled at the word -“the mortal. You cannot let his priests know that you are also investigating.”

 

Takada and Mikami nodded in unison, both in complete agreement. The feud between Kira and the Great Detective was legendary and both sects refused to interact. When they did, war always followed closely behind.

 

“Beyond that, though, continue sending me death requests and act as if nothing has changed.”

 

Mikami and Takada nodded again. Their god gifted them with one final, blinding smile before disappearing, the now familiar sulfur smell the only thing left to show that he had been there in the first place.

-

-

-

There were only so many hours in the day, even for an immortal god, and Light’s father is wasting too many of them with this lunch. Of course, it’s not like Light could refuse a dinner with his father, but the _tedium_ is making Light want to crawl out of his skin.

 

“Light, how’s Misa doing?”

 

Light wants to talk about Misa with his father as much as Light wants to talk about his relationship with L. (Light knows the universe hates him, why else would he have to be at this lunch talking about Misa?)

 

“Misa’s doing well,” Light says, already bored and uncomfortable, “she’s helping a popstar in the mortal plane right now, apparently it’s going well.”

 

In fact, the best thing about Misa is that she is constantly away helping her worshippers with inane tasks that seem to take up much more of her time than they should, Light would suspect adultery, but Misa is too obsessed with him. (The depressing reality is that she's just too slow and vapid to be efficient) 

 

“That’s good,” Sochiro says, “I’m glad that her summon doesn’t involve death this time.”

 

(Light refrains from telling his father about the rapist executive he killed for the popstar or any of the other deaths that Misa’s inspired since she began helping the girl)

 

After exchanging small talk and inane comments about the case, Light’s father hesitates, looking uncharacteristically nervous. Light mentally prepares himself for whatever has prompted his father to ask him to dinner in the first place. Light predicts that his father will ask about L.

 

(Light would rather cut off his own hand)

 

“Light,” Sochiro asks, “how do you know Ryuzaki?”

 

_(Bingo)_

 

(Light would really prefer talking about Misa)

 

His father’s so predictable. No wonder Light is always bored when he is talking to his own family. In times like these, he wonders why he doesn’t just go public with his Dominion and take the Banishment. The mask of the dutiful son that Light’s currently wearing is trying to slip off, and Light wastes a few seconds wrestling it back into place. (Not that it matters, Sochiro is not perceptive when it comes to his family. He wouldn’t notice Light murdering someone if it happened right in front of him)

 

“Ryuzaki was working on a case that involved one of my petitioners and he asked me to consult with him.”

 

That was mostly true, there _had_ been a case where the man who had summoned Light had killed a man (using Kira) and L had asked him about it. It had ended with some _glorious_ hatefucking and L still having no proof that Light was anyone but who he claimed to be. Of course, this wasn’t their first meeting, but it was a fond memory. (It was also one of the best fucks of Light’s _life_ )

 

“And you two became friends after that?”

 

In a sense, they also became fuckbuddies and enemies and the only people who mattered to each other in this rotten universe.

 

“Yeah, Dad, we became friends after that.”

-

-

-

Near’s office was covered in a variety of different toys and there was currently a scale replica of the last crime scene made out of legos dominating Near's floor space. It had been days and Near hadn’t found anything. Not even a _hint_ of a clue to tell him who the godkiller was or how he killed. After hours of staring at his board of clues and working on the crime scene replica, Near decided that there was nothing else he could do without a few hours of sleep. It was said that The Great Detective never slept, but Near wasn’t a god and his mortal body demanded sleep on occasion.

-

Of course, when Near got home, he couldn’t find either of his roommates.

 

Then he heard a crash from Mello’s room. Near was tempted to ignore it. It had been a long, frustrating day and it was most likely Matt and Mello attempting to have sex, and ever since Near had kicked Mello out of his bed, he would rather not watch anyone have sex, especially those two.

 

But Near was never good at ignoring things when it came to Matt and Mello, so he quietly crept near Mello’s door and pressed an ear to it. He was surprised to find that they weren’t fucking. Curiosity piqued, Near continued eavesdropping.

 

“ _He’s_ calling in his debt.” That was Mello.

 

Matt’s voice voice actually sounded slightly sympathetic when he said, “What does he want you to do?”

 

“There’s been a murder, he wants me to find out what the temple priests know. He wants me to fucking spy on Near.”

 

There was another crash as Mello presumably threw something heavy into something breakable.

 

“You’re not gonna do it, right?” Matt’s voice sounded almost worried, as worried as Matt got anyway.

 

“Fuck, I can’t exactly refuse _him_ can I?” Mello almost sounded sad, broken, and Near brushed away the warm, sympathetic feeling he felt stirring in his chest. Mello stopped being his responsibility when he broke from the temple, when he almost broke Near.

 

“You’ll figure something out.” Matt didn’t exactly sound convincing, but it seemed to do the trick because Near stopped hearing their conversation and instead began hearing soft, warm sounds that Near remembered from when he drew them out of both of his friends. He quickly moved away from the door and went to the kitchen to reheat some take out they had in the fridge.

-

Near had just climbed into his bed when Matt appeared in his doorway.  He looked as tired as Near felt, his indifferent mask slipping in front of Near for the first time since the Desertion and ensuing spilt.

 

“Rough day?”

 

“I could ask you the same thing.”

 

Matt huffed in a way that could be interpreted as a laugh if there had been more intention behind it. For a moment, his bravado came back, but then his shoulders slumped and he leaned against Near’s doorway as if it was the only thing holding him up, Near suspected that it was.

 

“Mello never meant for any of this to happen, you know.”

 

“Well, maybe he should have thought about the consequences of his actions instead of throwing himself headfirst into an ill-advised venture.”

 

“You know as well as I do that he didn’t have any other option if he wanted to avenge his family.”

 

Near shoved down the prickling feeling of annoyance that was quickly spreading its way through his body. “What about us, Matt? Weren’t we family too?”

 

Matt shrugged helplessly, “Sure, but he remembers his family. You and I? We’ve never even had a family to miss.”

 

Matt may have had a point, but Near was bone tired and too mentally drained to consider any stance to the Desertion other than the one he had held since the split.

 

For a moment, they both just watched each other. Then Matt made a small noise that could have been interpreted as either exasperation or fondness. With Matt it could have been both.

 

Matt walked over to the bed and straddled Near’s hips and then paused. If it was any other time, Near would have pushed him off. But if it had been any other time, he and Matt wouldn’t even be in this position. As it was, they were both too tired and emotionally drained to try and ignore each other in the name of principles.

 

When Near closed the space between them, the resulting kiss was not world shattering or breathtaking or breath taking or any other pretty description that people always use to describe a romantic encounter. They had far too much history between them for the kiss to be anything more than inevitable. It felt the way that junkies feel the first time they shoot up after being on the wagon, a familiar habit, a bad habit.

 

After that, it was the familiar feeling of Matt’s body over his, hands removing clothes by pure muscle memory. It was Matt leaving the taste of cigarettes and chocolate in his mouth. It was Near’s hands tracing the familiar planes of Matt’s too-thin body. It was them grinding against each other, Matt catching Near’s gasps with his mouth. Near was suddenly much closer than he expected himself to be and, working his teeth into the junction where Matt’s neck meets his shoulder, Near came, Matt following a few breathless moments later. In that moment, it was simple, uncomplicated, the way they had been pre-split.

 

They collapsed on Near’s bed, exhausted. Near idly thought that now that they had both come, everything should feel more awkward, but Near was so bone tired that he couldn’t even summon the energy to kick Matt out of his bed. Within seconds, they had both drifted to sleep.

 

Near couldn’t even bring himself to think about the morning.

 

Near had no desire to return to reality.

-

-

-

When Light finally makes it back to his shrine, he is unsurprised to find L crouching in one of his kitchen chairs.

 

“You know, most people don’t break into their friends houses,” Light says.

 

L turns to look at him, his eyes dark and glittering in the dim of the room.

 

“I’m not like most people,” L (the bastard) says, “I had an idea about the case.”

 

“And you couldn’t just contact me the normal way?”

 

L’s mouth quirked up in the ghost of a smile, “I could have, but it wasn’t pressing and I found myself needing a change in scenery and some company.”

 

“So you were bored and horny?”

 

“You could say that.”

 

Something in L’s tone makes Light _look_ at him. The Greatest Detective is as thin and monochromatic as always, but the permanent bags under his eyes look darker today and his eyes look heavy (melancholy even) as if he’s lived an entire lifetime since Light saw him yesterday. (or maybe he simply re-lived one)

 

Already hating himself for this even before he opens his mouth, Light asks, “Are you okay? You look more like shit than usual.”

 

(Throwing in the insult made everything feel more normal, as if Light didn’t just ask about the mental well-being of his arch nemesis)

 

L’s eyes glimmer with amusement, The Greatest Detective seeing through Light’s words to the meaning underneath. (Just like L sees through all of Light’s masks, just like Light sees through all of L’s)

 

(The only saving grace is that they occasionally allow each other to save face, to pretend that they haven't been caught wearing a mask)

 

(The goal is to wear the mask until it becomes your face)

 

“I was just thinking about the past, about things that I shouldn’t have been thinking about,” L says.

 

“You always wallow when you should be working,” Light retorts.

 

“Can we just...not? Just for tonight?”

 

Light laughs, a sharp, mocking, untrue thing that cements the feeling of superiority in him.

 

(Light’s aware that putting people down makes him a bully, but if that’s what Light is, what does that make L?)

 

“What do you want, L?” Light asks, “Do you want to be held and coddled? Do you want to _make love_  gently while I brush away your tears?”

 

(Light ignores the twinge in his chest as he imagines this scenario)

 

“Grow up, L, that’s not who we are. That’s not who _you_ are.”

 

L gets a peculiar expression on his face, Light suspects that this is the most genuine expression he will ever see on L’s face. (It kind of scares him) (He kind of likes it)

 

“Fuck you.” L’s voice is ice cold and diamond hard and surprisingly vulnerable in a way that Light both relishes and fears.

 

“I believe that is the point.”

 

L makes a low grumbling, growling noise deep in his throat and makes his way over to Light and Light isn’t sure whether he is about to be attacked or kissed. (maybe both) (he could work with that)

 

In the strange, half-light of Light’s kitchen, L is nothing but planes and angles and black and white. L is a chiaroscuro, a study in light and angles. He looks like a nightmare, he looks nothing and everything like Justice should and Light is like a man watching a train wreck, unable to look away.

 

In moments like these, Light forget’s how grotesquely skinny L is, he forgets how disgusting it is to watch L eat, he forgets the fingers, sticky with sugar, and the cloyingly sweet taste of his mouth. In moments like these, Light can almost believe in perfection.

 

(L is the most imperfect being in the world, but for some reason, Light can never quite convince himself that this is a bad thing)

 

The sickly sweet taste of candy brings him back to the present, like always, and Light remembers why he loathes L. (Why he ~~loves~~ likes him)

 

L kisses like he’s not sure why he’s doing it and he’s not sure if he likes it. It’s a tentative thing, almost scientific in its motions. Then Light runs his tongue along L’s bottom lip and L relaxes into him, leaving (most of) the awkwardness behind. As always, the kisses turn heated as both of them turn sex into yet another battlefield, yet another chessboard where they can try and prove that they are the winner.

 

Something feels different this time though, as if the ennui that L carried with him into Light’s shrine is present in even this wild thing. Slowly, the kiss slows, shifts, turns into something softer and more tender, something that this thing they do never is.

 

They pull each other’s clothes off and make their way to the bedroom, but there is something fragile growing between them that Light refuses to name and when they fuck, it’s nothing like the frantic, vicious fucking that’s usual.

 

After, both of them still relaxing in the afterglow, L clings to Light’s chest like a child and Light notices in that detached, post-orgasmic way that he doesn’t even feel a sense of victory at L’s obvious defeat.

 

“What do you think it means to be a god, Light?” L’s voice is small and contemplative.

 

“We are created by the mortals. Our only purpose is to run our Dominion and ensure that every realm is in balance.”

 

“Don’t you ever feel responsible for those under your care?”

 

“No, I run my Dominion smoothly, anything that happens to the mortals is their own fault, not mine. They make their own choices.”

 

“That must be a nice philosophy to have,” L pauses for a minute, thinking, before continuing on, “Do you ever feel the desire to be mortal? To understand them?”

 

Light exhales in a way that could have been a laugh if he was motivated and not freshly fucked, “I have as much of a desire to become mortal as a mortal does to become a cockroach.”

 

L laughs against his chest.

 

“L,” Light asks, “why are you asking me about this? Why did you come to my shrine?”

 

L looks up at him and Light can see him inwardly laughing at Light in that infuriatingly distracting way that he does everything.

 

(Light wishes he resented him)

 

“Because you’re my friend, Light,” L says, as truthfully as L can ever be.

 

Friends.

 

So that’s what they are.

 

L settles more securely on Light’s chest and somehow they both drift off into sleep. It’s probably the first real sleep that L’s had the entire week.

 

(Light tries to ignore the feeling of rightness, of completeness that waking up the next day with L brings)


	3. iii.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angsty Angst and some plot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry for taking so long to update, I am a really slow writer and on top of that I have been very busy and low-key depressed. 
> 
> But chapter 3 is finally here!!!
> 
> A note on tenses:  
> I said this last chapter, but it has been a long time since then.  
> There are lots of weird tense changes in this, the reason is that time for gods works differently that time for us mortals, to reflect that, **if the story is from a mortal's POV, it is in past tense, if it is from a god's POV, it is in present tense**.
> 
> Talk to me on [tumblr](http://just-another-shipper.tumblr.com/)
> 
> That is all, enjoy the chapter friends ^^

_ If I am to perish by the power of fire, _

_ At least let that fire be yours. _

_ -Ovid, Metamorphoses  _

_ - _

_ - _

_ - _

The cells underneath the Temple of the God of Justice were a cold, impersonal white. The type of white that could strip a person of their sanity and reason. Justice was not kind or merciful and neither was the god that embodied it. Or, at least that’s what Near found himself thinking as he made his way down to the prison. 

 

Mello was a stark contrast of shining gold hair and shining red burn scars and black leather and silver beads from his parent’s rosary. The white of the walls should have washed him out, should have drained the color and personality out of him, but Mello was as technicolor in a prison cell as he was everywhere else. 

 

As Near pulled up a white folding chair and sat down in front of Mello’s cell, he couldn’t help but think about how he must have blended into the white of the room. He was truly the Successor, Mello and his chaotic clash of black leather and gold hair couldn’t possibly be chosen. Only Near, white clothes, white hair, white skin and black, black eyes could have become the Successor. 

 

After all, Justice is black and white too.

 

Mello was lounging in the corner of his cell on his clinical white bed. He hadn’t deigned to stand when he saw Near come in. 

 

“You know that there’s nothing I can do for you,” Near said, trying and failing to keep his voice calm and in control like he should have been able to. Of course, he’s been trying and failing to do what he should have been able to for years when it has come to Mello and Matt. 

 

“Why the fuck would I want you to do anything for me?” Mello snarled. 

 

Near sometimes forgot how close to feral Mello was, had always been, and now Mello was a cornered animal, trapped and willing to gnaw its own leg off before even  _ thinking _ about giving in. 

 

“I don’t want you to stay in this cell anymore than you do.” Near said. 

 

“Then why the fuck did you lock me the fuck up?” 

 

“Mello, you were caught trying to break into my office, I couldn’t just let you go.”

 

“But you’re the Successor,” Mello sneered, “you can do  _ anything _ and the pricks bow to your every fucking whim.”

 

Near fought the urge to bang his head against the white walls of the cell. 

 

“There’s a limit of what even I can do,” Near said, “and I can’t just turn a blind eye if one of the Enemy’s agents break into the Successor’s office. Even if that agent is my friend.”   
  


Mello cackled, “Your  _ friend?  _ That’s the word we’re using now?”

 

Near started toying with the rubik’s cube he had slipped into his pocket. 

 

“Mello, how did you think you could get away with this? What does the Enemy want so badly that you broke into my office, despite knowing that you would likely be caught?”

 

Mello shrugged, “I can’t tell you, sorry. I would rather not die today.”

 

“Mello,” Near said, wishing he could throttle him, “you hate  _ him _ and you know as well as I do that traitors to the God of Justice get executed. You’re dead either way unless you  _ tell me what he wants. _ ”

 

They locked eyes and whatever Mello saw in Near’s made him look down, defeated. 

 

“ _ He _ wants to know about the godkiller case,” Mello murmured, “ _ He _ wants to know what you guys know.” 

 

Near felt his face get even paler. 

 

“Mello,” Near said, urgently now, “what does Kira want with that case. What does he know?”   
  


Mello shrugged, “I don’t know, pretty sure he doesn’t know much or he wouldn’t be asking me to spy on you.”

 

_ Fuck fuck fuck  _ Near would have to tell  _ Him _ immediately. 

 

Near rushed out of the room and up to the Summoning Chamber, leaving his rubik’s cube and his friendbrotherloverenemy behind. 

-

Because the universe is fickle and cruel, before Near could get to the summoning chamber, he literally stumbled into Matt. Predictably, Near felt his blood run cold. 

 

Back when they were kids, the biggest difference between Near and Mello was their anger. Mello was loud and destructive and had the type of hot, selfish rage that didn’t care if anyone else got burned as long as it burned.

 

Near had the type of rage that sank like a rock into his stomach and froze him cold. It calmed him and focused him and made him cruel. 

 

Mello burned as hot as a star, but Near was as cold as the dark of space. 

 

“How could you?” Matt’s voice was sharp, accusatory.

 

“No, Matt, how could  _ you? _

 

“I’ve defended you two to  _ everyone _ so many times. I’ve had to justify my friendship, I’ve had to listen to the bad jokes and deal with all the blows to my reputation because of you two and you don’t even  _ care _ ,” Near continued, “How dare  _ you _ , Matt, how dare you help him break into to my office. Even  _ I _ can’t defend him now.”

Matt just stared at him, shocked into silence, the cigarette hanging in his mouth, forgotten. 

Satisfied, Near stormed off to go and summon  _ him.  _ Maybe Mello’s idiotic plan could be good for something.

“You’ve never seen him like that, Nate, he was desperate. Are you saying that you wouldn’t have helped him?” Matt shouted at Near’s back.

Near whirled around, “First of all,  _ Mail _ , don’t call me by that name, and secondly,  _ of course _ I wouldn’t have helped him! Of all the stupid, idiotic things to do, you didn’t come to me, you didn’t try and find another way, you two just  _ broke into my fucking office and got caught!” _

With that, Near walked up the stairs to the high temple quickly, but not fast enough to miss Matt shouting, “Bastard!” at his retreating form.

 

At this point, he couldn’t care less.

-

Watari was already in the high temple when Near arrived. 

 

Watari was judging Near in that silent, aloof way that told Near that he was not going to say anything, but that he disapproved of the entire situation. That made two of them. Near’s just grateful that Watari is the one performing the Summoning, Ruvie wouldn’t have shut up about Mello. 

 

The Greatest Detective appeared as an L in the computer screen within a few minutes.

“Has there been a development in the case?” The Greatest Detective said.

 

Near stepped up to the screen, “Yes, Detective. One of Kira’s agents was found trying to break into the Godkiller case files. He was detained and questioned. The agent said that Kira wanted to know what we knew. It is my opinion that Kira is involved with the godkiller, he’s possibly even the mastermind.”

 

The computer screen was impassive, but silent for longer than Near thought normal, “Dectective?” Near asked, “Is everything alright?”   
  


“Yes,” the garbled voice in the computer said, “everything’s fine, I was just thinking. There is a possibility that Kira’s the mastermind, but there’s no evidence that he has the Ability to kill gods, nor does he seem to have the inclination to try.”

 

“With all due respect, Detective, not much is known about Kira. He could be hiding this power or maybe he has just recently acquired it. Either way, I don’t think he should be cleared as a suspect yet.”

 

The scrambled laugh came out of the computer speakers again and to Near, it almost seemed self-deprecating. “Of course not, Near, I will keep this in mind during my own investigation. Thank you for coming to me with this information.” 

 

With that, the screen went black and Watari and Near were alone in the room once more. 

 

“I noticed that you refrained from mentioning who was caught looking through the case files,” Watari said.

 

“It’s not relevant to the investigation,” Near said, feeling defensive, “and his punishment will be dealt with soon.”

 

With that Near left the room, feeling the heavy weight of Watari’s gaze on his back as he left the room.

-

-

-

_ Well this is a twist _ .

 

As soon as he leaves the mortal plane when the summons was complete, L enters Light Yagami’s shrine. It has always seemed too nice for a minor academic god. It is more suited to a major god such as L or Kira. 

 

It was just another piece of circumstantial evidence that L couldn’t use to prove that Light wasn’t who he said he was. 

 

But finally! This was the last piece of proof he needed. Now there’s no doubt that Light Yagami and Kira are one and the same. 

 

Light isn’t home yet, but L can always get into his shrine, which is a curious piece of information that L and Light both don’t ever talk about, and probably never will. That level of unconscious trust is usually reserved for spouses and family, not mortal enemies who occasionally sleep together. 

 

Usually, L just sits at Light’s table with a case file, their nights an unspoken truce, but today he decides to explore. 

 

There is nothing under the bed, the loose board in the floor just holds a fake journal, and there is nothing in his clothing drawers. But L finally finds something in the hidden compartment in Light’s desk. The little black notebook that Kira’s famous for is protected by several curses, but, like most of Light’s magic, L’s overlooked. L doesn’t want to read into that too deeply, especially considering that his magic does the same thing to Light. 

 

What a strange pair they make. 

 

Now armed with the black notebook, L crouches in his usual chair, content to wait for Kira. 

-

-

-

Light doesn’t visit Sayu enough, which, after this visit, is something he decides to remedy.

 

(He never feels as perfect as he does after a visit with his younger sister.) 

 

She thinks he can do no wrong, which is a nice change from his usual company.

 

Of course, his happy mood is broken when he walks into his shrine and sees L sitting at his table with a black notebook on the table in front of him. 

 

(Fuck)

 

“Hello, L, what do you have there?”

 

L Lawliet looks at him blankly. “I have found proof that Light Yagami is Kira.”

 

(fuck fuck fuck) 

 

Light forces himself to laugh and sound unconcerned even if his entire life is crumbling to dust. “How is that proof that I’m Kira, L?”

 

“This notebook of dead criminals that Kira uses was found in Light’s house, and one of Kira-kun’s agents was found trying to gain information from my priests on a case only few people know about.”

 

(deny deny deny) 

 

“That’s not funny, Ryuzaki, how many times do I have to tell you that I. Am. Not. Kira?”

 

“Light-kun can deny it all he wants, but the evidence makes it clear. Light Yagami is Kira.”

 

( )

( )

( )

 

When Light comes back to himself, he screaming justifications and threats at The Greatest Detective while L stares back impassively, but Light can see a faint glimmer of satisfaction, of victory, in his eyes. Slowly, Light calms himself down, mind racing with what he should do now that L knows his secret. 

 

(His mind is blank) 

 

L speaks before he does. “I should turn Light-kun over to the Pantheon now, but that would disrupt the case, so I will wait until this case is over.”

 

Light breathes out a sigh of relief. 

 

“However,” L continues, “if Kira-kun steps out of line, I will let the council know Kira’s identity immediately.”   
  


Light opens his mouth to say something, anything, before L cuts him off again. 

 

“Also, because Kira could be involved, Kira will be Bound to me for the remainder of the case.”

 

(Fuck.)

-

There are different types of Bonds, the most common Bonds are marriage Bonds, then there are Bonds that connect a god to an underling, then the Bonds that connect a priest to a god, but none of these weren’t the Bond that Light and L now had.

 

The last kind of Bond is a holdover from a time when society and humanity was more keen on subjugation and controlling other people. (What it said about humanity that the Bond still existed was something Light liked to bring up anytime he talked about humanity’s flaws)

 

(If people  _ truly _ didn’t want to subjugate each other, then why did the Bond still exist?)

 

The last Bond would connect two creatures together unequally, naming one powerful and the other powerless. While the Bond usually gave power to the one doing the Bonding, sometimes, if there was an innate power imbalance, the Bond would backfire and the powerless became the powerful.  

 

(Like that would ever happen)

 

The Bonding ceremony itself was different every time, but it the basics were always the same: A way to tie the two gods together, a sacrifice for the gods (even if the two being bound  _ were _ gods), and someone unaffiliated to witness the ceremony. 

 

The witness thankfully isn’t required to do anything, which is why Matsuda is currently blinking stupidly in Light’s kitchen.

 

(Among the gleaming marble countertops and polished mahogany cabinets, Matsuda looks out of place, like a punk rocker at a Beethoven concert)

 

“Hey guys!” Matsuda says, far more enthusiastically than anyone should ever be, “Thanks for inviting me over, Light-” 

 

Matsuda cuts himself off, finally noticing how tense L and Light are. 

 

“W-What’s going on?” Matsuda asks. 

 

L (the bastard) turns to Matsuda with a false smile and says, “Hey, Matsuda, Light and I need you to be the witness for a Bonding ceremony. Do you want some candy.” 

 

L pulls his hand out of his pocket, producing several hard candies wrapped up in colorful plastic. 

 

(Light hates him)

 

Matsuda’s face fills with joy and he says, “You guys are finally getting married? Couldn’t you guys have waited one more week? I almost won the bet!”

 

“What bet?” Light asks despite himself.

 

“The guys and I have a running bet to see how long it would take before you two-” Matsuda cuts himself off again at the look on Light’s face, “Never mind, it’s not important.”

 

(Light hates everyone) 

 

“Well,” L says, a hint of laughter dancing through his usually monotone voice (though Light doubts anyone but him could hear it), “Should we get started with the ceremony?”

 

“Totally!” Matsuda says, high spirits recovered. 

 

(Light hates everything)

 

“Great,” L says, “Matsuda, go stand in that corner and don’t say anything.” 

 

Matsuda looks confused, but doesn’t argue. (Which is, Light suspects, his natural state of being)

 

L puts a pair of handcuffs, more candy, and Light’s notebook on the table that sits between Light and L. He grabs one of Light’s hands and attaches one of the handcuffs on his wrist and locks the other one on his own, and then he writes a name in Light’s notebook before closing it and giving it back to Light. Light opens it, the name  _ L. Linder _ stares back at him, tasting false and true at the same time. 

 

“This isn’t your name.”

 

L looks at him with blank eyes. “It’s the first alias I ever went by, he was also my first case.”

 

(Light doesn’t need L to tell him about the significance of souls owned, but-)

 

“I need a face or the sacrifice won’t work.”

 

L nods and pulls out a small notebook of his own. After rifling through it for a few minutes, he show Light a picture of an unassuming man. While looking at the man’s face, Light writes his name again and feel the sacrifice work. He nods at L and suddenly he feels the Bond start forming. 

 

It feels wrong, like when you expect water, but get vodka instead.

 

L’s magic flows through the links of the handcuffs and surround Light’s, but instead of feeling foreign, L’s magic feels familiar and safe. Light’s magic relaxes and soon their magics begin intermingling, reverberating back and forth in a feedback loop. 

 

(The Bond was supposed to be painful and terrifying. Light didn’t know what was happening.)

 

(Judging by the look on L’s face, he didn’t know either)

 

-

-

-

Inside the bond, there’s nothing but a confusing maelstrom of emotions of feelings and memories. 

 

The feeling of crushing boredom,

 

a man with madness in his eyes and flames burning his skin, 

 

the fear of a family’s rejection, 

 

three lost boys yearning for a family without realizing they have made one for themselves, 

 

empty, pretty people, 

 

fanatics worshipping at the altar of Vengeance and calling it Justice, 

 

a dead woman in a leather jacket, 

 

_ loneliness,  _

 

_ alienation,  _

 

_ loneliness.  _

 

Inside the bond, Light and L don’t exist, there’s only  _ LightandL _ , a single entity, a reflection of them both, but  _ more _ somehow. Sharper, brighter, stronger. 

 

And then the bond breaks. 

 

And he is only L Lawliet, the Greatest Detective once again. 

 

Kira looks shellshocked and high, a blush on his face, his eyes all pupil. 

 

He looks like he does in bed. 

 

L doubts that he looks much better. 

 

The chain of the handcuffs rusts away, but the cuffs themselves are still a bright gleaming silver and L doesn’t have to test it to know that he would not be able to remove the cuff on his wrist without considerable effort. 

 

“Wow! That was intense!” 

 

Oh right. Matsuda. 

 

“Shut up, Matsuda,” they both say and then Kira turns to glare at him, more than clearly annoyed, as if L was purposely mocking him. L just stared back with the blank stare that has always irritated everyone. 

 

“Okay, then,” Matsuda says, after a long moment of silence, “I’ll see my way out, I guess.” 

 

Kira turns away from L as if shaken from a trance, puts on a congenial face, and says, “Thank you for doing this Matsuda-san, I’ll walk you out.”

 

When Kira gets closer to Matsuda, L can just barely make out him saying, “Please don’t tell my father yet? I want to tell him myself.”

 

Matsuda laughs, “Of course, have fun, guys!”

 

Matsuda leaves quickly after that and Kira has him pinned against the wall as soon as Matsuda’s out of the door. 

 

“What the fuck is this?” Kira is close enough that L can feel his breath on his lips. 

 

“I don’t know, Kira,” L says, “but I suspect that this is a Bond that isn’t used anymore, maybe it’s even a True Bond.” 

 

Kira laugh has a sharp edge to it, as if it wouldn’t take much to turn it into a cry, “Those don’t exist, L, there has to be an explanation that isn’t a  _ fairy tale. _ ”

 

“I don’t have any other explanation, I suspect that we would have to ask an expert on Bonds to find out more.” 

 

Kira’s voice is hysterical when he says, “Fuck that, we can’t tell anyone that we got  _ Bonded _ .” 

 

“They are going to find out when we can’t leave each other’s line of sight, Kira.” 

 

“ _ Fuck.” _

 

L has never seen Kira with such little control before, besides the moment L confronted him. It’s intoxicating to finally have stripped away the last of Kira’s masks, to know he  _ won _ . 

 

The rush of adrenaline propels him forward and suddenly they’re kissing, fierce and angry. 

 

Even in this, it seems that Kira has finally given up trying to keep up his masks, 

 

and it’s  _ thrilling. _

 

Kira  _ growls _ when L breaks their kiss with a sharp bite. 

 

“I believe that I’ve won, Kira,” L says against Kira’s lips. 

 

Kira surges forward against him and his kisses have a desperate edge, as if he can’t bear to lose, even now. 

 

“You’ve won  _ nothing _ .” 

-

-

-

As he cleaned the blood off the switchblade, he felt phantom limbs encircling him. 

 

“Stop it,” he said, “You’re not real.”

 

“I’m as real as you want me to be, Beyond,” The dead girl replied. 

 

“No, you’re not, you killed yourself ten years ago,” B said, “You don’t get to keep haunting me, A.” 

 

“But you’re doing this for me, right? You’re doing this because the Detective loved us both, you’re doing this because the Detective loved us both too much.”

 

“I’m doing this because he  _ meddled _ .”

 

“Did that fire mess up your head? Stop lying to yourself, B.” 

 

“Go away, A.”

 

“Grow up, B, the Detective wasn’t the only reason I did this.”

 

“Why should I?  _ You _ never did. And besides, he might not have been the only reason, but he played a large part in why you did, if I can’t lie to myself, you can’t lie to me either.” 

 

The feeling of A’s arms encircling him abruptly disappeared and suddenly B was alone in a room with a bloody corpse and a body covered in burn scars. 


End file.
